The best laid schemes o' gods an' lovers
by Yamiken
Summary: Let's hope they don't go awry here. Rant, oneshot. Rated T for a couple of very mild sexual references.


**A/N: Something I was inspired to write by a discussion of fan-theories for the Haruhi universe with a friend. The continuation of my Yuki fic will, I hope, come soon. For now, I present this for you to enjoy!**

**I wrote this in the space of about an hour when I should have been at lectures, haha. I apologise therefore for any mistakes I made by rushing it. There's not really much else to say, really, other than two things: first of all, this more or less reflects my preferred version of the backstory behind the Haruhi universe, and as such I'm happy to present my arguments for it to any interested ( XD ). Secondly, I only named Haruhi as the character around whom the fic centres, but it clearly isn't written from her point of view. Whose point of view it is written from is probably pretty easy to guess, and I expect will only become more apparent by the end.**

**And now, on with the show! ... err, story. Whatever.**

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What would you say if I told you I'd fallen in love with a twelve-year-old girl?

Most would probably call me a paedophile for that. Well, those people would be wrong. I've never felt anything for any other child before, so I can hardly fall under that definition. Others might just look at me strangely and say it's a little weird. Those people are right, but for the wrong reasons – I'll explain in a minute. Pretty much everyone, though, I expect, would say that either way, I shouldn't act on it. Those people are definitely right – unfortunately, I did act on it, in a big way.

At this point I should make clear that this isn't some weird sex story. I didn't act on it in _that _way. If anything, what I actually did was worse, but, well, we'll come to that. Now though I should probably clear up a few things up for you. I mentioned before that me loving a twelve-year-old girl was weird, but not in the way you'd expect. You see, it wasn't the twelve-year-old part that made it strange, taboo, something that shouldn't happen – it was the girl part, or rather, since I'm not gay either, the human part. You see, I'm going to have to add one more thing to that list of things I'm not: human. What am I, you ask? Well...

That's complicated.

It's hard to put into words, or your words at any rate. I could write an entire dissertation on it and still not have come close to explaining the complexity of my existence. That probably sounds a bit arrogant, but I'm afraid it's true. What approximation you get for what I am depends on who you ask: a higher-evolved life-form, a data entity, a time traveller... a god. Heh. Call me egotistical at times, but I like that last one the most. Still, in truth, I'm all and none of those things, at least in the sense that they're usually understood. But I've wittered on enough about what I am for now. The only other thing you need to know about me with regards to what I am (fundamentally, at least) is that I don't fall in love. Particularly not with lower life-forms. Particularly not with human girls.

Or at least, I'm not meant to.

But that's what I went and did. I couldn't help it – can anyone ever help love? (Oh dear, listen to me now...) I was watching her one day – not specifically her, not at first, but rather just the area she was in. What I actually was watching in particular I can't honestly remember – another thing that's not supposed to happen with me, but I guess it's true what they say that love does strange things to a man. Maybe I was just bored, as you'd understand it. Possibly that's why my thoughts started roving, and landing on, well, other people's thoughts. That's just one of the things I can do. Not that I do do it a lot, the reason for which that night was testament to – thoughts usually aren't worth paying attention to. One of the most tiresome things I can imagine is having to spend all day listening to someone else's thoughts – can you imagine it? Well, maybe you can. Anyway, that night was no exception to the rule, for the most part. Pretty much all the thoughts I perceived were focused on pure trivialities – in fact, I think it was even the same triviality; I believe you call it baseball? Whatever it was, it didn't exactly make for scintillating listening. Yet one little girl wasn't focused on that at all. The sport in front of her didn't interest her (I might have given an ironic cheer at that). What had her attention were the people – or rather, the sheer quantity of them. She was terrified by it. She'd apparently never imagined that there could be so many people in the world – she even seemed to believe that her entire country must have gathered there in that one place that night.

Nowhere near! I scoffed to myself, my sarcastic amusement fairly unbounded. Yet something gripped me about listening to this little girl's thoughts, experiencing her sudden sense of sheer smallness. I don't know why; she's hardly the first of your race to have been overawed by their tininess in the world. It's something you do with entertaining frequency, in fact. Even if I had the fullest range of communication available to me at hand to try and explain to you, I couldn't even come close to saying what made this one little girl different. Maybe it wasn't her. Maybe it was just some unfathomable current inside of me that simply chose that moment to boil over. Maybe it was some higher power, some Fate guiding me. I've no idea. But whatever the reason, I didn't simply go my own way when that little girl left the stadium that night. Instead, I followed her, ever-curious, listening to her thoughts and her feelings as she grappled with this veritable existential crisis she had stumbled into.

I felt her amazement as she realised how small a portion of her country's population, let alone the world's, could have been in that stadium that night.

I shared her loss as she realised that those childhood experiences she'd thought were so special, that she'd held so dear to her heart, were nothing more than what any child in Japan could expect go undergo.

I cringed at her anguish as she cried that someone, somewhere must be living an interesting life.

I heard her sob as she asked why that person wasn't her.

And through it all, I fell in love.

Finally, as she hit the depth of her melancholy, I made my decision. It was unprecedented, it was reckless – it was just downright _stupid_. But I didn't care, I did it anyway. Love conquers all, I learned that day, even the reason of a being who _is _reason. So I decided to make her, this girl, a gift. The greatest gift of all: every scrap of power within me. Every ability I possessed would belong to her, with the single purpose of fulfilling her true wishes, whatever they might become. Anything to relieve my love of the sadness that had gripped her – even if meant the world crashing down around us.

You see now why I said it was if anything worse than what happens in those weird sex-stories.

I wasn't completely without precaution, mind. I set certain... measures in place that I hoped would stop anything too drastic happening to the world. Of course, the greatest I can't honestly say was solely, or even mainly, for that purpose. I may have told myself otherwise at the time, trying to convince myself I wasn't just being as selfish as the next love-struck fool, but the truth is, I was. Yes, I phrased it to myself as a simple fail-safe mechanism in case her use of my powers got too out of hand.

But in reality, the reason that the very last thing I did with my powers before giving them up to her was to incarnate myself as a human who would, before long, meet her (three years isn't a long time, right? Well, I suppose it's all relative...) was simply that I wanted to be with her. To share in her joy. To help her through her troubles. To love her, and, I hoped, be loved back.

Why else, after all, would I have left myself with no memories of who, of what I really was? Why would I have gone to such a measure to secure realism if all I wanted to accomplish by being at her side was to keep an eye on her? Oh, I'd be keeping an eye on her alright, but not just to stop her doing anything stupid. I'd be keeping both eyes on her – I _am _keeping both eyes on her – because I can't for all the world (which it may just come to yet) tear them away. I can't look anywhere else; that night three years ago now may have convinced her of her own smallness in her world, but for me it marked when she became my whole world. I haven't looked away since.

I said earlier that of all the terms used to try and describe, 'god' was the one I liked most of all. That wasn't just a massive ego on my part – there's another reason. You see, a higher-evolved being can have pets. A data entity can have subjects. A time traveller can have companions. But a god? What does God have? I'll tell you: God has angels. And that's what she is to me, pure and simple: an angel. Only I'm not sure who's been serving and singing the praises of who for the past three years.

Anyway, now I'm getting unbearably mushy – my human self, who as you'd expect is pretty close to me in personality to how I was before this whole mess (oh but what a wonderful mess it is) started, would probably vomit if he read what I – what he – is writing here. So I'll wrap it up by just assuring you that I do have a plan. Your world isn't going anywhere just yet. That's the point I wanted to make plain through all this – well, that and try to tell someone my story, of course, which I gather is a natural enough reaction among those who have undergone a powerful emotion such as love. But we're going to have some fun with it, my angel and I. Don't worry – it'll be fun for you too, I hope. Just hold on tight and trust us to give it back to you in one piece. We promise we will – more or less. But only after we've lived a very, very interesting life together.

Thus will end, I hope, the melancholy of Suzumiya Haruhi.

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**Short, I know. Still, do review! It will make me happy, and hopefully a better writer. =D**


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